pin up board

During his move to Washington, DC, Stiles made a number of realizations about life, the most prominent of which was that it was amazing what kind of hobbies a guy could pick up when his days weren’t packed full of running for his life from various supernatural horrors. Like trivia nights, for example. Stiles had a regular team and the entire bar groaned when they walked in because they knew they were about to get creamed.

Or the tabletop gaming club he joined, where everyone was just as competitive as he was, and punches had been thrown on more than one occasion.

Or like, Stiles jogged now.

Through the National Mall.

Like Captain America or some shit.

And with these hobbies came a sort of routine, and though most were on hold during the summer when his trivia team and gaming rivals were back home, the running stuck. It was calming and got his mind off things, gave him a chance to think about any papers he had to write, or de-stress about his FBI internship when it got a little hectic.

It was a good routine.

So every Saturday morning, Stiles got up a little earlier so he could get in his longer route, and left his dorm for his jog through the National Mall. On Saturdays, he took the path that went through the war memorials, down into West Potomac Park, and over to the Jefferson Memorial. It was his favorite place to take a breather because that early in the morning, there were rarely any tourists, and other joggers left him alone. It was nice and private, with a great view of the city across the water.

Stiles leaned back against the front steps and glanced around him casually, making sure there was no one too close before pulling out his little burner flip phone.

He had an old school drug dealer flip phone. His dad would be so proud.

There was only one number the phone ever called, so there was no need to save it under a name.

He waited for a few minutes, biding his time until the clock hit 7:15am, and then he called that number.

On the third ring, Derek picked up.

“Morning, sunshine!” Stiles greeted, already wide awake from his jog. Derek grunted back. He must’ve had a late night at the bar. “Any leads?”

Derek yawned loudly. “Still no werewolves with triskele tattoos, still wanted for murder.”

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anonymous asked:

You know how at the end of brotherhood they show pictures pinned up on that board? I want the same thing except it's all Mama!Hawk! PLEAAAAAASSEEEEEE!

I didn’t know that i needed this so much. THANK THE HEAVENS FOR THIS ANON!! And i know you said Mama!Hawk but i wanted to throw in Papa!Roy too!!! I love me some parentals!

For @wahwahwaffles, this probably isn’t what you had in mind but it’s here anyway?


Bucky woke up on the outskirts of Santa Rosa. It was dawn and Steve was pulling the car into the parking lot of some tiny coffee place. Bucky’s neck hurt from sleeping with his head against the window. He refrained from comment when Steve chose what all Bucky’s training told him was the wrong parking spot, just wordlessly stretched his neck and shoulder as Steve went inside. When he came back out again, Bucky was handed a bag of donuts and coffee with not enough cream.

“Where are we?” Bucked asked, voice rough from sleep.

“New Mexico.”

“We headed for the border? I can drive if you wanna sleep?”

“Nah, I got it. We’re not going to the border, though. We’re going to Puente Antiguo.”

Rather than going back out onto the interstate, Steve took a smaller road. Bucky scratched at his hair, wondering when he would next get the chance to wash it. “What the fuck is in Puente Antiguo?”

“Not much, but I got a surprised lined up for you.”

“I’m a hundred years old now, I can’t handle surprises.” Bucky took a scalding gulp of coffee.

Steve laughed, “you’ll like this one. Now gimme a donut.”

Bucky held out the bag and let Steve rummage through it for the chocolate coated one. Then he let Steve keep driving and blearily watched the desert roll by.

If Bucky had ever been to this part of the country, he didn’t remember. It looked exactly how he’d picture it, so maybe he had. He used to know someone from here. A girl. Long ago, before the war. 

He rolled down the window and let the cool air blow his hair around. He squeezed his eyes shut and remembered: Darcy and the best six months of his life.

He almost wished the memories weren’t there. It was painful to think of how young and stupid and happy he’d been. Finding a dame in the park, in tears after her purse got stolen. He and Steve had put her up in their apartment, sharing Steve’s bed and giving Bucky’s room to Darcy. They’d helped her out, got her clothes even if they were secondhand. Bucky had scored her a job; a filing girl in the same building where he worked in the mailroom, he seemed to recall. Or had she been in the mailroom and he was something else? He definitely remembered the two of them walking to and from work every day, arm in arm. And that his boss thought they looked good together. Darcy had been sweet and funny. A little firecracker, no taller than Steve. And always wore that sweater with the cherries embroidered on the chest. She’d paid their kindness back, putting her money in with theirs for food and rent. And she’d paid them back in kisses, and in gentle little touches, like cuddling up to Steve while he was doing the dishes and nuzzling at the back of his neck. Or sitting on Bucky’s knee while they both read the paper. Outside, she was Bucky’s girl. But behind closed doors, it was Bucky and Steve and Darcy. No matter how much the neighbours tsked and told them they were living in sin, playing house.

Bucky hoped that wasn’t the surprise. That Steve had tracked down Darcy, now an old lady. He didn’t care if he was selfish, not wanting to see the family she must have built for herself when she’d gone back to New Mexico. She’d deserved a happy life, not to see him now as a shell of soldier. Would it be better or worse to simply arrive at her grave?

“You’re not even gonna give me a clue?” Bucky asked.

“Nope. This was way too long and complicated to track down to start spoiling it now.”

They passed a roadsign, ‘Puente Antiguo 19 miles.’

There was an uptick in traffic as people started making their way to work. The temperature rose and the sun brightened in the sky.

Puente Antiguo turned out to be a thin veneer of a town scraped across a section of desert. A diner, a garage, a pet store, a cluster of houses. Farm houses speckled in the distance. And a disused car dealership that had grown satellite dishes out of the roof like giant mushrooms.

Steve pulled the car up alongside a large van, which also sported a satellite. “Here we are, Buck. Surprise is inside.”

Bucky sat squinting in the hot sun at the strange surroundings. In through the large window, he could see more machinery and computers that did god only knows what. And on the back wall was an enormous printed star chart. Was this an observatory? The 21st century was weird to him in a lot of ways but this was really pushing the envelope.

Steve, done waiting for Bucky to figure anything out, got out of the car and strode up to the glass door, giving it a firm couple of taps. Bucky slowly opened the door and followed, his boots crunching in the dusty gravel. Behind them, the town was waking up. The garage started welding something, and the diner’s bell jingled as the first customers ventured in.

An unfamiliar woman hollered for them to come inside the dealership-slash-observatory, so Steve pushed the door open and walked in. Where Bucky took a good long look around the place - with notes and photos pinned up and a transparent board with long, scary looking equations written in red - it clearly wasn’t Steve’s first visit. He made a beeline for an office in the back where Thor was waiting for them, with two women. One was pacing and writing in a notebook, chewing on one pen while another was balanced behind her ear. And the other?

Darcy. Not an old lady, but exactly the way she had been. Not a day older and sitting on at a high table, with her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee. She was even wearing that goddamned cherry sweater. Bucky’s jaw dropped.

Steve, the smirking little punk, walked right up to her and placed a kiss on the top of her head. He turned back to face Bucky, with his hands on Darcy’s shoulders. “Surprise.”

Bucky couldn’t manage a single sound.

Was this a dream? Was he still asleep in the car, or back in cryo? It couldn’t be real, that was too good to be true. And yet here his Darcy was, waiting patiently for him to pull himself together. Bucky felt his throat tighten and his eyes well up with tears.

“H-how?” he stammered.

Darcy put her mug down and opened her mouth.

“You have no idea how important this is. We’ve been trying to get a handle on the data this threw up for the last year,” the other lady said. “The fact that she was able to go back at all is groundbreaking and the difference in perceived time? Oh, my god. I-”

“I time traveled, Bucky” came Darcy’s beautiful voice. Just as he remembered. “I spent six months with in nineteen-forty but I was only gone from here, like, six minutes. You will be shocked at the amount of detail I had to go into to get Jane to believe that I was in a polyamorous relationship with Captain America and the Winter Soldier for six minutes.”

Bucky swallowed around the lump in his throat.

“Tracking someone down is a lot harder when they turn out to be seventy years younger that you think they are,” Steve said, when Bucky said nothing. “We just so happen to have some mutual friends, so we got lucky.” He jerked his head towards Thor, who raised his own mug in salute.

“S-so, wait,” Bucky took one step forward, “that whole bit about being on vacation to New York and getting mugged?”

“Total lie, sorry,” Darcy said, getting off her chair. She was just as small as she had been before, like Steve wasn’t anymore.

“But you wouldn’t have believed me then. Can you forgive me?” She held out her arms for a hug and Bucky wasted no time. But instead, he scooped her up into his arms, like a new bride, and pressed a big smacking kiss to her lips. In the background, Thor and Jane cheered. And Darcy let out a tiny squeal and kissed him right back.

Hearts and Hands

__________________________

***Disclaimer: Cassian is HoH AU

__________________________


• They’ve been on good terms for a while now and, really, the only reason they aren’t mated is because neither of them has asked the other. It’s ridiculous because everyone except for them seems to know that they are crazy about each other. Feyre and Elain are close to staging an intervention.

• Nesta’s going to ask him out though, she is, there’s just something she needs to do first. Which is why she’s spending her friday night in an empty billiards room with Rhys. It’s not like her other friday night options were any wilder. Her usual friday nights consisted of either sitting with Elain in the gardens, or cozying up with a book. In some ways this actually meant she was getting out and about.

- “You realise this is gonna take more than one hour a week right?” Rhys drawls from where he’s flicking through the sign language books Nesta hauled from the library that morning. 

- “That’s why we’re going to be in here every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday.” He raises an eyebrow. She beams at him.

- “That’s when Cassian trains with Feyre.”

- “Exactly.”

- Rhys sighs and tips his chair back on to two legs. “Why am I not surprised you know his timetable?”

- “We’re members of the Court, I need to know where he is in case I need him for something.”

- “You mean so you can randomly appear there to flirtatiously banter with him?” Rhys smirks when she opens her mouth to argue with him then shuts it because he’s right. “Don’t worry Nes, he knows yours too.” He lands the chair heavily on four legs again and winks. “Now, let’s start with what you know.” 

• It takes more than three hours a week. Rhys can’t help her all the time though so she holes herself up in empty rooms and the kitchen and even occasionally in a broom cupboard to practice in secret. She reads all the books Rhys sends her, pouring over them more than once. She practices in the mirror and runs through what she knows so far during training sessions with Amren. 

• Azriel catches on after three weeks when he notices her stifled laughter, covered with a cough, at breakfast at something Mor just signed across the table. He narrows his eyes at her and pulls her aside once they’re the only two left at the table. “How did you know what Mor said?”

- She blinks at him, feigning ignorance and innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

- “Who’s teaching you?” 

- “Rhys.” She gives in because it’s obvious he’s figured it out, and he shakes his head. 

- “I could help too you know.” He nods towards where Rhys, Cassian and Mor are walking ahead of them, jostling each other around the corridor. “And Mor. We won’t tell Cassian.”

• With all three of them helping it comes a little quicker. Now she’s spending every night holed up with at least one of them in her room. Mor focuses on her fluency and accuracy, making sure she’s not rushed in movements and doesn’t slip up. Rhys incorporates swearwords in with shortcuts, also introducing weekly tests which she scowls about but does. Azriel has long conversations with her across all topics, picking her up on mistakes and not getting impatient when she forgets something. 

• Eventually, she’s confident. Mor and Azriel cheer when she tells them, signing it. Much to her chagrin, Rhys presses a gold star sticker onto her forehead. Nesta’s not sure where he got it from. And then she’s ready. Now she’s just got to work up the confidence to be assured that he won’t say no. 

• Cassian has been sulking for the past couple of weeks, confused as to why his three best friends and the female he’s absolutely in love with keep disappearing and reappearing together after an hour every night. They’ve all had different excuses. Apparently Mor has joined a theatre club. According to Azriel he’s fallen behind on some of his work, so he needs to catch up. Rhys just refuses to answer his questions and pretends he doesn’t know what Cassian is talking about. And Nesta, well, her schedule is pinned up on the notice board Lucien insisted on and in the slot where she disappears, it just says "Terrasen.“ He’d found out from Rhys that it was a reference to a book with firehearts and buzzards in it, which only further confuses him. 

• So when Nesta approaches him one day during lunch, when he’s sitting on his own beneath the beech tree, definitely not pouting, he doesn’t say anything at first.

- “Hey.” She smiles, sitting next to him. Cassian jerks his chin up in response. “I was wondering if I could ask you something?”

- “Taking me up on my offer to train you?” He smirks, running a hand through his hair. Nesta rolls her eyes. 

- “Not quite.” He watches as she crosses her legs and turns to face him on the grass, her back to the townhouse.

- Nesta takes a deep breath and then begins to sign. “Will you go to the Rainbow with me tomorrow? As my mate.”

- Cassian’s mouth drops open. For starters, she must have made a mistake, she meant it as friend “mate,” instead of mate mate. Secondly, she just signed to him. He’s trying to figure out if she’s ever indicated knowing sign language before. But he knows that’s not the case. A lot of people in his life know it; his brothers, Mor and Amren, Feyre, the wraiths, his captains know a few phrases… but Nesta doesn’t. 

- Except she must because she’s signing again, asking if that was right and if he’s okay. Cassian is certain he looks like a carriage just hit him.

- “Is this where you’ve been every night?” He asks and she nods, smiling at him shyly. Cassian runs a hand through his hair. “I’m going to kill them.” 

- “Would you answer my question first?” She signs, a blush forming on her cheeks. Cassian had almost forgotten. Nesta Archeron just asked him out. As her mate. A grin blooms on his face and he laughs, leaning forward and kissing her before he can stop himself. He pulls back too soon for her. 

- Then, “Yes, a thousand times yes.” He signs and she grins, moving forward to kiss him again.

• Cassian reckons he must be the luckiest male in the history of the world. 

A Survivor’s Guide to Year 12 (It’s not that bad)

It’s getting to that time of year where we’re all heading back to school, and if you’re anything like me, you might be a bit panicked and uncertain about your future in sixth form. Since I’m going into Year 13  this September, I’ve learnt a lot about how to tackle it and thought I’d give you Year 12′s some advice. I’ve got a few regrets, and wish somebody had told me these things when I was starting Sixth Form, don’t forget to message me any questions/thoughts about the new academic year and I’d love to chat!

1. Don’t commit to a subject you don’t like.

Trust me, I say this from experience. I took on 4 A-levels at the start of Year 12 whilst everybody else did 3 – I thought the extra subject would help me when it came to university applications later, but two weeks into A-level History I decided to drop it. If you, like me, are considering taking a subject just because it’d look good, or for any reason other than your genuine love and interest in it, seriously consider changing it before it’s too late. Most sixth-formers now have to commit to their subjects for 2 years (not just 1), and if it’s going to be a struggle to you, or cause you to neglect your other studies, I would recommend seriously rethinking that decision. I’m happier and more successful now studying 3 A-levels than I could’ve been if I’d committed to a subject I can’t stand.

2. Use Folders!

My biggest regret was not using folders from the very beginning, and not keeping on top of them once I’d switched from notebooks to folders. You need to have them well-organised and easy to navigate – don’t leave all your loose papers in a stack ‘for later’ when you get home. I did this throughout Year 12 and rarely found what I wanted when I needed it, now that it’s summer I’ve spent literal hours sorting through a mountain of paperwork, trying to decide which topic or exam each page belongs to, and I’m still not even half-finished. (If you want to see a guide on how to organise your folders, let me know and I can make a post on it!).

3. Read!

If you know certain books/materials which you’ll be covering in sixth form, read them in the summer to get familiar with it, develop a basic understanding, and find a way to get enthusiastic about your classes even before starting. If you’ve not been told what books to get, I would really recommend e-mailing your teachers and asking. This is how I’ve built my collection of further reading for my subjects which few other students will have knowledge of; an easy way to form developed, educated responses in exams. Admittedly, some books are tough, I’ve got a few which I’ve not finished, but I’ve adapted a method to overcome this, which I might share soon.

4. Expect lower grades than you’re used to.

You’re used to working at a certain standard at GCSE level, you know what grades are normal for you, but don’t be downhearted when you don’t do as well as you’re used to. A-levels are assessed in a completely different way to GCSE’s and the content and style is usually all new. Expect to get a couple of grades below your standard in your first assessment, but don’t let it discourage you. It’s completely normal and I found it to be a great motivator once I got to grips with it. If you really work hard, listen and put in the extra effort, your grades should start rising within the first couple of months, and then beyond that you can get A’s at the end of the year if you work hard. Trust me. It might seem impossible, but it really isn’t, you don’t have to be a genius either, you just need to have a committed work ethic and that’s all.

5. Use your free periods!

Teachers will tell you all the time to use your study periods well, to make the most of them. If other sixth forms are anything like mine, most people will ignore this and waste every free period socialising and relaxing. I understand that this works better for some people, who prefer to work at home, but I believe the most productive students work in some way or another during at least 90% of their free periods. I always get my work done at school, and then do extras at home, leaving most of my time away from school properly free to relax in. You don’t genuinely relax well if you’ve got a to-do list hanging in the back of your mind, so get it out the way and make the most of your down time later by freeing yourself from stress.

6. Know how, when and where you work best.

I’ve done a lot of quizzes. They’re not worth it. Reflect on what you found genuinely useful in GCSE, and carry it along to sixth form. Decide how when and where you work best now, so you can get started without wasting time. For reference, here’s my list of how, when and where I work best:

  • HOW: Flash cards for summaries of theories, attaching quotes to themes. Essay plans and practice questions! These are my go to – they take a lot of work but seem to be the most valuable, especially once I feel I’ve got the information down. Listening to instrumental music to help me focus/be creative. I cannot work in my pyjamas. I know it’s weird and seemingly irrelevant but I supposed it is part of how I study, I like to feel clean and fresh and ready for anything.
  • WHEN: During typical working hours (8:00-15:00), or in the evening (20:00-23:00). I feel I better tackle academic and focused work during the day, like essays, notes and revision, but creative or leisurely work like reading, analysing and coursework can be done in the evenings. When I’m feeling disappointed in myself or afraid about my academic future, I work like mad, and this is honestly the best time to get started on exam rewrites, because you can lose motivation quickly.
  • WHERE: At school, or in a public library, it doesn’t matter whether it’s loud or quiet, busy or peaceful, but I usually work around friends who are just having casual conversations. If it’s late and I’m doing creative work, I like to work in my bedroom or my living room (wherever my family aren’t).

7. Revise as you learn.

I made flash cards for the topics we covered at the end of every term, and in the holidays I go over them and fill in any gaps using the textbook or my personal notes. When it comes to exam season, you won’t have much time to be making revision materials, you need to be using them and refining the finer points like your exam technique. You can’t hope to start revising a month or two before your exams. It won’t work as well, and you’d be missing out on the chance to achieve the real top tier grades by not having the information already memorised (for the most part). One month before the exam, the ideal position to be in for revision is revising quotes/extra context, and revising exam technique. Practice questions will become your life, and don’t be afraid to give you teachers extra work to mark. They might not like it, but you need to make the most of the resources around you.

8. It’s actually quite fun.

Now hear me out – you’re probably getting a lot of people telling you how difficult and stressful it’s going to be, but nobody bothered to tell me that Sixth Form/College actually has a lot of benefits. I would not go back to my GCSE’s now if I had the chance, despite how easy they seem to me in retrospect.

For the most part, you’re treated like an adult. You’re friends with your teachers. You’re given a lot more freedom, a fair amount of food and fun experiences. For the first time in my life I actually looked forward to assemblies. I’ve had long conversations with teachers about our favourite films. I’ve had more inside jokes than I can count. I’ve had random assignments which have me running around the school with friends, balancing on the tip of a chair to pin up boards, untangling Christmas lights like a gameshow team challenge. It’s really great. You have a lot of fun. So it’s important to prepare for the sheer amount of work and the difficulties of sixth form, sure, but don’t stop yourself from having fun, and appreciate the things you’ll have now that you’ve been denied for all of your education so far. It makes all the hard work worth it.


I am a bit of a nerd and I’m not afraid to admit that I love Sixth Form. I hope you enjoy your Year 12 as much as I did mine. Let me know how you’re feeling if you’re in year 12, or if you’re older let me know if there’s anything you think I missed!

And We Move As One

AN ~ I have quite a few ideas for scenes, not necessarily mutually exclusive, of Jemma & Daisy in the Framework. I plan to keep them all in one place since they’re spec, so they’ll be here.

Title from Yorktown (The World Turned Upside Down) from Hamilton

It’s the two of them against the dystopian Framework, and with every card they turn over, it seems another one of their former friends is against them. When Framework!Fitz breaks Daisy’s heart, it’s up to Jemma to assure her it’s them against the world. (Literally.)

Rshps: platonic Skimmons, platonic FitzDaisy (& some romantic FitzSimmons)

Read on AO3 (~1500wd)

And We Move As One

Since the Framework versions of themselves have no reason to know each other, and Jemma – being allegedly dead – has no living space of her own, and Daisy’s apartment is also home to a nightmare, they end up booking a hotel room. It’s one of the skeezier ones, since Jemma – being allegedly dead – has no ID, but it has wifi and a wall against which they can set up a pin-up board like the paranormal investigators they basically are. The board tracks Daisy, Ward, Coulson, and now Fitz. Unlike Coulson, a humble and somewhat average teacher, Fitz is a big name. In fact, the information on him is so vast they couldn’t fit it in this hotel, let alone this room, let alone this space on the board. Holed up in here for the afternoon, they try to narrow it down.

“So, what is he, some…Tony Stark character?” Jemma speculates, pacing the hotel room carpet. She passes a pen from one hand to the other as her mind struggles to wrap its way around this world; a world in which she has known Fitz for ten years, and he has never known her at all. A world in which he goes to the opera and wears suits that cost more than cars, and drives cars that cost more than their apartment. Who knows what a Fitz raised like that would have, would think, would know?

“Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist?” Daisy smirks at the image. “I can’t imagine Fitz as a playboy. He seems like a one and done kinda guy.”

“Ours might be,” Jemma points out, “but several million dollars goes pretty far in the dating department.”

“I hear that,” Daisy concedes, but it’s still strange to scroll through all these pictures of Fitz out and about – oftentimes with women, though the nature of the relationship is usually ambiguous - doing activities one could only describe as schmoozing. He’s got a lofty air about him, and definitely money to spare. He’s arrogant, but in an attractive way; a way that makes you think that maybe you could be that one person he pays real attention. He’s not quite kind - polite, but aloof. It’s a strange balance between on the one hand, exactly how one might imagine the stubborn, arrogant side of Fitz would show up if polished with a ridiculous amount of money, and on the other, something Daisy never imagined Fitz could be.

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anonymous asked:

AU where lily or James is deaf and the other tries really hard to learn sign language or something cute like that

They’ve been friends for a while now and, really, the only reason they aren’t going out is because neither of them has asked the other. It’s ridiculous because everyone except for them seems to know that they fancy each other. Remus and Marlene are close to staging an intervention. 

Lily’s going to ask him out though, she is, there’s just something she needs to do first. Which is why she’s spending her friday night in an empty charms classroom with Sirius Black. It’s not like her other friday night options were any wilder. Her usual friday nights consisted of either hanging out with her friends in the dorm, or hanging out with her friends in the common room. In some ways this actually meant she was getting out and about. 

“You realise this is gonna take more than one hour a week right?” Sirius drawls from where he’s flicking through the books Lily’s mum had sent in the post that morning. 

“That’s why we’re going to be in here every Tuesday Wednesday and Friday.” He raises an eyebrow. She beams at him.

“That’s when James is at Quidditch practice.”

“Exactly.”

Sirius sighs and tips his chair back on to two legs. “Why am I not surprised you know his timetable?”

“We’re co-Heads, I need to know where he is in case I need him for something.”

“You mean so you can randomly appear there to flirt with him?” Sirius smirks when she opens her mouth to argue with him then shuts it because he’s right. “Don’t worry Evans, he knows yours too.” He lands the chair heavily on four legs again and winks. “Now, let’s start with what you know.” 

It takes more than three hours a week. Sirius can’t help her all the time though so she holes herself up in empty classrooms and the bathroom and even occasionally in a broom cupboard to practice. She reads all the muggle books her mum sends her, pouring over them more than once. She practices in the mirror and runs through what she knows so far during History of Magic lessons. 

Peter catches on after three weeks when he notices her stifled laughter, covered with a cough, at breakfast at something Remus just signed across the table. He narrows his eyes at her and pulls her aside on the way to Transfiguration. “How did you know what Remus said?”

She blinks at him, picture of innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Who’s teaching you?” 

“Sirius.” She gives in because it’s obvious he’s figured it out and he shakes his head. 

“I could help too you know.” He nods towards where Sirius, James and Remus are walking ahead of them, jostling each other around the corridor. “And Remus. We won’t tell Prongs.”

With all three of them helping it comes a little quicker. Now she’s spending every night holed up with at least one of them in a Charms classroom, Flitwick nodding profusely in acceptance when she asks to use them for a while. Sirius focuses on her fluency and accuracy, making sure she’s not rushed in movements and doesn’t slip up. Remus incorporates swearwords in with shortcuts, also introducing weekly tests which she scowls about but does. Peter has long conversations with her across all topics, picking her up on mistakes and not getting impatient when she forgets something. 

Eventually, she’s confident. Peter and Remus highfive when she tells them, signing it, and Sirius presses a gold star sticker onto her forehead. Lily’s not sure where he got it from. And then she’s ready. Now she’s just got to work up the confidence to be assured that he won’t say no. 

James has been sulking for the past couple of weeks, confused as to why his three best mates and the girl he’s pretty much in love with keep disappearing and reappearing together after an hour every night. They’ve all had different excuses. Apparently Peter has joined the Gobstones club. According to Remus he’s fallen behind on some of his work so needs to catch up. Sirius just refuses to answer his questions and pretends he doesn’t know what James is talking about. And Lily, well, her schedule is pinned up on the notice board in their office and in the slot where she disappears, it just says Narnia. He’d found out from Remus that that was a reference to a book with a wardrobe and a lions in it, but that just confused him further. 

So when Lily approaches him one day during lunch, when he’s sitting on his own beneath the beech tree, definitely not pouting, he doesn’t say anything at first.

“Hey.” She smiles, sitting next to him. James jerks his chin up in response. “Um… I was wondering if I could ask you something?”

“Struggling with McGonagall’s essay again?” He smirks, running a hand through his hair. Lily rolls her eyes. 

“Not quite.” He watches as she crosses her legs and turns to face him on the grass, her back to the lake.

Lily takes a deep breath and then begins to sign. “Will you go to Hogsmeade with me on the next weekend? As my boyfriend.”

James’s mouth drops open. For starters, she must have made a mistake, meant friend instead of boyfriend. Secondly, she just signed to him. He’s trying to figure out if she’s ever indicated knowing sign language before. But he knows that’s not the case. A lot of people in his life know it; his parents, his governesses as a child, McGonagall, the other Marauders, the Quidditch team know a few phrases… but Lily doesn’t. 

Except she must because she’s signing again, asking if that was right and if he’s okay. James certain he looks like a bus just hit him. 

“Is this where you’ve been every night?” He asks and she nods, smiling at him shyly. James runs a hand through his hair. “I’m going to kill them.” 

“Can you answer my question first?” She signs, a blush forming on her cheeks. James had almost forgotten. Lily Evans just asked him out. A grin blooms on his face and he laughs, leaning forward and kissing her before he can stop himself. He pulls back to son for her. 

Then, “Yes, a thousand times yes.” He signs and she grins, moving forward to kiss him again. James reckons he must be the luckiest guy in the world. 

3

[23/04/2016] • {59/100} • so today I finally hung up my pin board :D but I need ideas on what else to put up coz it looks so blankkkk 😭 but anyway I also did notes on the circulatory system and started on the respiratory system coz I have a biology sac on Tuesday 😭
((ALSO IM SO PROUD OF MY HEART DIAGRAM XD))

ravyeolie  asked:

Heey man, so my friend and I are planning on sharing a table at tigercon later this year, and I know you've done a few cons. Do you have any advice for like what merchandise we should be selling (other than prints) and the best way to go about preparing for selling at a con? ;u;

Oh how awesome! :D

I’m a bit new to the con scene, but I think I can offer a bit of advice—

Some of the most common items you’ll find for sale in an artist alley are prints, buttons, stickers, and charms. Small things like buttons seem especially easy to sell since they’re low cost, durable items that don’t cost as much— or take up as much room— as a print might.

There are two things that you can do for making buttons:

1. You can have them printed and shipped through an online service

2. You can purchase a button making machine, bulk materials for pinback buttons, and personally print sheets of the designs you want to use.

Personally, I have my own button machine. Button machines are quite costly— especially good ones— but they eventually pay for themselves. They’re relatively easy to use and you can make a large amount of buttons in a short amount of time. I personally got my button machine from this company and I also use their website to purchase the materials for my buttons. I use our local Office Depot to print my button designs.

The most common button sizes you’ll see in an artist alley range from about 1-2 inches.

I’m afraid I don’t know many online services that are good for buttons, but I do know that Zapcreatives offers bulk orders of 1 inch buttons. It’s important to note that they’re in the UK, however, and that the prices on their site are set in British Pounds.

Zapcreatives also offers charms— various acrylic, wood, and metal varieties— and sticker printing. I’ve ordered charms from them twice now and have been relatively pleased with their service and the quality of the charms (excluding the fluke with my Journey charms). They print and ship relatively fast to the US (east coast) as well. I ordered my charms on the 12th of January, they shipped on the 19th, and I received them on the 26th. 

I’ve unfortunately had no experiences with their sticker printing service, however, since the only con I’ve attended is Katsucon and Katsucon does not allow artists to sell stickers (make sure to check the rules of your con very thoroughly so that you know what is and is not appropriate to sell! Keep in mind that, for copyright reasons, it’s generally important to sell your own unique designs as well as designs that include fanart).

Another service I know of that prints charms is Ink It Labs, though I’ve never personally used their services. I’ve heard good things about their charm quality; I almost ordered from them this year, but Zap offers more charm designs, 5 for an order of 50 1 inch charms, while Ink It only allows 2 designs, and it appealed more to my needs.

Some other things I’ve seen offered in the artist alley (by drawing artists, not crafters) are small bags with prints on them, printed scarves, magnets, and bookmarks (none of which I have personal experience with).

As far as preparing for the con goes, I think that my best advice would be to be completely prepared well before the con hits. When the con is 3-4 months away you feel like you have plenty of time, but if you still have work to complete when the con is a month away it becomes a royal stress. You can never prepare too early for a con. Make sure to work on your designs and prints whenever you can, and make sure that you have enough money to afford everything you will need (including expenses at the con, like food and hotel costs).

Other than your merchandise, make sure that you have plenty of supplies for your own needs as well as your display. I would recommend bringing the following with you to your table:

  • Duct tape and scotch tape (Duct tape for any potential display repairs; scotch tape for hanging prints)
  • A ruler
  • A calculator
  • A notebook or something to record sales in
  • Pens and pencils
  • A sketchbook (if you plan to do drawing commissions at your table)
  • Scissors
  • Table clamps (to secure your display to the table; not necessary but a good idea)
  • Small clear bags or sheets to put your merchandise in once sold (not necessary, but a lot of people appreciate it)
  • A cash box (with small bills and change at the start of the con)
  • Pliers and additional lanyards (if you sell charms and have jump rings that may need adjusting)
  • Food and drinks
  • Perhaps a cushion (you will spend a lot of time on your ass so you might as well be comfortable)
  • Hand sanitizer
  • A trash bag
  • Anything that you need for your personal comfort (such as tissues, ibuprofen, or other medications)
  • Something to entertain yourself during slow periods (such as a book or your 3DS)
  • Your phone (don’t forget to charge it every night!)

As far as your actual display goes, I would greatly recommend purchasing some gridwall. You can make a display out of PVC pipe, but gridwall is sturdier and easier to attach prints and other items to. You can also keep supplies in the back side of a gridwall display, which is great for organization.

I purchased my gridwall from our local Bed Bath & Beyond. You can find them on their site here but I purchased mine directly from the store to avoid shipping fees. Unfortunately, you have to buy two of these gridwall sets to make a display for a 6 foot long table (to form a sort of arch above you that’s 3 squares high, that is.)

Make sure to read the rules of the artist alley you are attending so you know exactly how tall you’re allowed to make your display. 

Also try to have a clear idea of how you will organize your smaller items on the table. If you have charms, where are they going? How will people see your buttons? I’ve seen some people attach their charms directly to their gridwall, but other times people will have separate, smaller displays specifically for their charms.

I’ve also seen buttons displayed in many different fashions. Some people choose to just print out images of their button designs and have a poster, some people lay them right on the table, some people pin them up on display boards, and others like to have them pinned to their table cloth in some way (the tables tend to have some form of cloth on them already, but you can always drape your own over the cloth if you wish to— particularly if you plan to display buttons in this way since it’d be a bit rude to make a pincushion of the con’s cloths lol.

This is getting rather wordy now but there are two more things I’d really recommend:

1. Business cards.

People readily grab business cards at artist alleys when they are available! Make sure to include your name, email, and a list of your online usernames (Tumblr, DA, FA, whatever sites you are on). It makes it all the easier for people to find you in the future; don’t be afraid of advertising yourself!

2. A portfolio or a binder with some of your additional work.

This can be for additional items you wish to sell that won’t fit on your display, or it can be just to show off some of the stuff you didn’t make into prints or buttons. 

I was strapped for funds last Katsucon and I made a binder filled with sketches I had done (since I don’t have a coloured printer at home and it was relatively easy to print out my favorite uncoloured sketches I had). A surprising amount of people took interest in that binder and I had a lot of nice conversations with people who stuck around to look through it! C:

UHHHH that’s most of what I can think of. The only other thing probably worth noting is to consider prices well before the con. $1-2.50 is generally a good price for buttons, depending on the size, and I’ve seen charms jump around $3-10 depending on size and detail (ones closer to $10 are usually larger, have extra parts, or are double sided.) 

As for prints, they can easily range around $3-15 depending on the size and quality. I’d recommend looking for sources online if you need further specifics.

I hope at least some of this helps! C:

EDIT: I also use this site for my prints. I’d recommend looking for a few separate places before settling on a one, though (if you haven’t already). Go for whatever is in your price range and easiest to manage.

FBI Partners // au fanfic, part 3

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Synopsis: You and Dean are FBI partners and are known for your clever tactics as a team. Although you maintain a professional relationship, you both still have a strong bond from the many years of working together. However, a new case triggers new feelings that neither of you expected to face.

Warnings: swearing, some violent scenes and the description of crime scenes.

Originally posted by findmeplease

“6341 Madison Avenue, Block C.” Dean stated to one of the agents, revealing where the killer had been residing for the past few days, according to the shaken suspect who was left reeling by himself in the room.

“Good job with that dry cleaning evidence. Matthews is gonna kiss your ass so badly when he finds out about it.” you said, both of you exiting the room and walking down the corridor in clear triumph.

The suspect turned out to be the murderers accomplice, explaining how he knew of his whereabouts, meaning he could get prosecuted for assisting murder. You both made your way into your office, Dean collapsing into his seat. “Thanks, I thought that bitch was going to piss his pants.” he laughed, beginning to type something into his computer.

You stood there for a moment, confused. You had finally scraped together the whereabouts of the murderer and should be going out to look for him immediately, however it was clear Dean had no intentions of doing this.

“Um, Dean, what are you doing? Shouldn’t we be out there trying to catch this guy?” you asked, tapping your foot against the floor impatiently.

He looked at you as if you had just asked him to jump out of the window. “Y/N, are you crazy? This killer could have a whole group with him. We literally have no idea what we’re walking into.” he said, raising his voice in slight shock at the fact that he even had to say this.

“Well, we won’t know until we see for ourselves.” you stated in a simple manner, turning around and heading for the door, only to be stopped in your tracks by Dean reaching his arm out and slamming the door shut, blocking you from leaving.

“Dean, open the door.” you said sternly, fed up with him and how he couldn’t find you capable of making a simple arrest, when you had successfully carried out these actions many times before.

“Y/N, are you listening to yourself? This guy is dangerous, we have no idea what he’s capable of!” he shouted. “You walk in there now, you are guaranteed to get yourself killed.” he continued, his chest expanding heavily.

You resisted the urge to give in to him, seeing him upset because of you was hard to take but you had to do this. “Dean, if I don’t do this and he gets away I will never be able to forgive myself. Why do you care so much anyway?” you questioned, tired of this continuous arguing.

“Because you’re my partner and I’m not going to let you risk your life and get yourself almost killed like last time.” he finished, rubbing his forehead in frustration.

“Dean, I can do this, I need to do this. Just open the fucking door.” you said sternly, you both knowing that your mind couldn’t be changed on this.

Dean shook his head in disbelief, mainly at the fact the you prioritised catching the murderer over the safety of your own life, but also at your stubborn attitude. “You know what? You go ahead, don’t let me stop you. I’m sorry for caring about you.” he finished, mumbling the last part as he backed away from the door, going back to his seat and staring straight at the computer, refusing to look at you.

You opened your mouth to speak however no words came out. Knowing that you had pissed Dean off and that he probably didn’t want to see you right now, you decided it would be best to leave. Slamming the door shut in frustration, you exited Dean’s office, trying to put aside the full blown argument you just had and instead focus on the current task of finding the killer.

Peering around the corner to make sure Matthews wouldn’t be there, as he would definitely ask where you were going, you quickly entered the empty elevator, resting your head against the wall to collect your thoughts. For some reason Dean being angry with you bothered you more than you thought it would. What a dick, you thought to yourself.

Parking a good few yards away from the warehouse, you took a deep breath, making sure your gun was fully loaded before getting out the car and making your way towards the side entrance.

The door creaked when you opened it, making you wince due to the unexpected sound. You drew out your gun supporting it with your other arm, that held a flash light.

All you could hear was the heavy thumping of your heart and it was at this point that you fully realised what you had gotten yourself into. It pained you to admit it but Dean was right, you couldn’t do this alone. A small part of you wished that you had listened to Dean; however you pushed these thoughts aside, determined to prove to him that you were capable of getting this job done.

You weaved your way through the large boxes present in the warehouse, trying your very best to be as silent as possible. You were beginning to think that this was going to be a wasted trip as there were no signs of anyone in the building so far and you hated the thought of turning up to the station empty handed.

Suddenly, the lights flickered on, indicating that someone was in the building. You stopped dead in your tracks. Shit, you thought, I have to act quick now.

Luckily, the person was on the phone to someone, making it easy to track him down as his loud voice bellowed through the mostly empty warehouse. As you rounded the corner, you were fixated on what greeted you.

Pictures upon pictures of young women were pinned up on a large board. What made the whole ordeal disturbing were the blood splattered images of mutilated body parts and severed organs that the killer clearly had pride in displaying.

The killer himself was observing the images, his back facing you whilst still being on the phone. You grimaced in disgust however remained fully composed, your adrenaline increasing as you approached the distracted killer and drew your weapon.

“FBI, put your hands up!” you shouted in clear authority, pointing your gun towards towards the young man who quickly turned to face you. He appeared startled however reacted quickly, dropping his phone and turning to run. Son of a bitch, you thought as you began to run after him.

You found yourself contemplating something that you really didn’t want to do. Fearing that this man would get away, you reached for your phone and punched Dean’s number onto the screen, your eyes darting upwards to make sure you didn’t lose the criminal.

“Y/N, whats happening?” He asked, his deep voice interlaced with panic once he heard your heavy breathing down the phone. “Dean, you remember the last case where i said I didn’t need back up?” you asked, starting to feel slight exhaustion at the constant running.

“Yeah, Y/N, tell me where you are. What’s happening?” he urged, slight movement being heard in the background, suggesting that he was already planning on coming to help you.

“I fucked up Dean, I’m at the warehouse and i think he’s gonna get away. I need back up. Now.” you responded in short spurts, stopping to finally take a breath after realising that the killer was no longer in front of you.

“Just stay where you are Y/N, I’m coming to get you.” He stated in assurance.

You shut your eyes and smiled. You knew that you could always count on Dean and no matter how stupid you acted, he would always be there to protect you when you messed up. “And Dean?” You said, hoping he was still on the line.

“Yeah?” he asked, even his voice making you wish he was here with you now in this dark and shitty warehouse.

“I’m sorry for what i said earlier’ you said, ashamed at yourself for pushing away Dean and allowing the job to take over.

“I know,” he said, his voice more softer now. You were about to reply when you felt a gun pointing to the back of your head. Your whole body tensed up when you heard a voice break the eerie silence. ‘Drop the phone” he said.

You hesitated for a moment, before dropping your phone and putting your hands up. Shit.

“They sent a woman to catch a killer? Looks like I’m in for a treat.” He responded, his voice dripping in arrogance as you gritted your teeth, raking your mind for any possible way to get out of the situation.

*flashback*

“Dean, okay, okay, you win.” you urged, pulling yourself out of the firm headlock he had you in before collapsing on the ground, breathing out heavily.

You and Dean had been sparring in the gym for about an hour now. The term “sparring” actually meaning that Dean was kicking your ass. Repeatedly.

“Get up Y/N, we’re not done yet” he said, taking large gulps of water before yanking his shirt off, allowing his defined worse to show, evoking a small smirk from your face.

Your groaned out in pain, your body slick with sweat as you hauled yourself up on your feet, ready to take what ever abuse Dean was willing to throw at you next. ‘Okay we get it dude, you can beat my ass, move on already” you said annoyingly.

He laughed before speaking. “Very funny. Now I’m gonna teach you how to get out of being held at gun point. It’s very easy to fuck up, so listen carefully babe” he teased, you rolling your eyes jokingly.

*end of flashback*

You immediately swung your elbow round, satisfied when it landed as a straight blow to his face. His disoriented state enabled you to quickly raise your leg, kicking the gun out of his hand, the weapon landing a few metres away.

You were momentarily distracted whilst trying to locate the whereabouts of the gun when you felt a sharp hit to the face. Motherfucker, you thought as you delivered a stinging kick to his ribs.

Suddenly, you found yourself being knocked to the ground, wincing at your head making hard contact with the floor as he retrieved the gun and towered over you, pressing the rim against your head.

“Well, aren’t you a tough one” he mocked, leaning in closer so that he was inches away from your face. You screwed your eyes shut and tried to ignore the blood tricking down his cheek. “i love a girl who’s a little feisty.” he continued, looking down at your figure and licking his lips in lust.

You used all of the strength you had to headbutt him, enabling you to push him to one side and get back on your feet whilst he recovered. Fuelled by anger, you proceeded to deliver one last blow to his face, sighing in both relief and exhaustion when he collapsed onto the concrete ground.

You quickly handcuffed him, your shoulders relaxing as you stood up and heard police sirens wailing in the background. Before you knew it, police burst through the nearest exit, all pointing their guns towards the killer as several officers began detaining the man, heaving him up onto his feet and dragging him out the warehouse. You stood there in complete shock, coming to terms with what had just happened.

“Y/N?” You heard Dean’s familiar voice call out and you could’ve cried in relief. You turned around to see Dean’s panicked figure weaving through the crowd of officers and quickly making his way towards you.

“Dean?” you said, unable to believe it was him as he pulled you into his comforting arms. You closed your eyes and melted into him, breathing in his musky scent which you loved so much.

“Shh, i’m here now” he soothed, wrapping his arms around you tightly as you fought back tears threatening to escape.

“Fuck, you have no idea how freaked out I was.” You said, unable to find the strength to explain yourself right now and you knew Dean understood from the lingering kiss he’d left on your head.

“What did that son of a bitch do to you?” he exclaimed as he pulled away slightly to look you in the eyes, witnessing the nasty bruise the killer left behind.

“He had a good right hook, i’ll give him that.” you said, sniffling slightly whilst trying to lighten up the situation.

He cracked a small smile however you could see the clear pain evident in his eyes when he led you to the ambulance stationed outside the warehouse.

Dean stayed by your side for reassurance whilst the paramedic took care of your injuries. The tension in the air was obvious and you both could clearly sense it. Even though you were unsure of what to say in the moment, you knew that you and Dean would eventually have to talk about things, however you took the chance to appreciate Dean being there for you when you needed him most.

You both looked up when you saw Matthews making his way over to you. “Good work Y/S/N for making the arrest, turns out the guy was planning another killing for tonight- you managed to catch him just in time.” he finished, clearly satisfied with your work.

You should’ve felt elated with this news however you found yourself worried with the idea of Matthews finding out that you went against his authority by carrying out reckless actions. “Thanks Matthews, I’m just glad we finally caught him.” you replied curtly, managing a small nod.

As Matthews began to walk away, he turned around and said, “By the way, I heard from officers, that you were the only agent on the scene, is this true?”

You were caught off guard by his question but was luckily saved by Dean who interrupted. “No, I was there, securing the warehouse to prevent the suspect from escaping.” he replied, making brief eye contact with you, reassuring you to go along with the story.

Matthews nodded in response and you swore you could see a shadow of a smile present on his face, as if he didn’t believe you; however he didn’t not act on this and turned away, joining the other officers.

“Thanks Dean, you didn’t have to do that.” you said, breaking the silence.

“C’mon Y/N, no chick flick moments,” he uttered, moving to sit next to you. You  smiled internally at his inability of sharing serious moments as he often turned to making jokes - his way of avoiding any intimacy.

You nudged his arm with your elbow gently, turning your head to look at him. “I’m being serious, I should’ve listened to you.” you said, feeling the guilt creep up on you.

“Yeah you should’ve,” he started, tucking loose strands of hair behind your ear, allowing his fingers to brush down your cheek and absentmindedly trail down your neck. “But you did arrest him, so I was wrong in thinking that you couldn’t do it by yourself.”

Humming in response, you leaned into his touch, wanting nothing but go home and sleep. Dean somehow read your mind, surprising you by grasping your hand and saying, “Come on, let’s get you home.”

The ride to your apartment was mostly silent, most probably due to the fact that you were both exhausted by everything that had happened. However, Dean still quietly comforted you by mindlessly brushing his free hand against your thigh, every once in a while.

As he pulled up to your apartment, you found yourself stuck between two minds as even though you really didn’t want to be alone right now, you also didn’t want to pester Dean.

“Um, Dean, I was wondering if, can you-” you stuttered, suddenly finding yourself shying away from his intense gaze.

“Stay with you tonight? Of course I will, you didn’t have to ask.” he assured you, your heart warming at Dean’s protectiveness. “Do you still have my clothes from last time?” he voiced, loosening his tie whilst you opened the apartment door, exhaling a sigh of relief at the familiar surroundings.

“Gimme a minute,” you said, smiling in acknowledgement, too tired to reply properly as you walked into your bedroom, finding Dean’s clothes and laying them out on your bed. Dean followed you into the bedroom shortly after you finished changing, shrugging off his suit jacket and unbuttoning his shirt.

“I’ll be right back.” you said, allowing Dean to get changed and giving you time to get a glass of water to recollect your thoughts. Even though Dean hadn’t said anything, you knew something was bothering him and you were desperate to find out what it was so you could try and fix it.

You put your empty glass in the sink and poured one for Dean, making your way back to your bedroom. As you entered the room, your suspicions were confirmed when you saw Dean sitting at the edge of the bed, looking down at the floor, rubbing his forehead.

You placed the glass on the dresser and made your way over to Dean. Kneeling in front of him, you rested your forearms on his knees, laying your head against them as you looked up at him. His eyebrows were furrowed as he stared blankly ahead, avoiding direct eye contact.

You reached out gently and placed your hand on his, intertwining your fingers together as you waited for Dean to speak, not wanting to push him if he didn’t want to talk about it.

“You could’ve gotten killed today,” he mumbled, his voice filled with guilt as he finally assumed eye contact with you, his eyes glassy which caused your heart to ache at the very idea of Dean loading the blame upon himself.

“But I didn’t, I’m here with you,” you responded calmly, trying to refrain from asking too many questions and instead tightening your grip on his hand.

“I shouldn’t have let you go. I can’t lose you Y/N.” he said, his voice breaking slightly, surprising you with his heartfelt confession as Dean had rarely opened himself up to you like this before. “If anything happened to you, I would’ve never forgiven myself if- “

“Shhh,” you whispered, cutting him off by cupping his face with your hands, not wanting to hear Dean blame himself for something that was out of his reach. “Listen to me Dean, please don’t put this on yourself. I care about you too much to let you put yourself through this. I chose to go and you couldn’t have stopped my stubborn ass. No matter how much you wanted to.” you protested,  hoping that he would understand how wrong he was as you stroked his cheek with your thumbs, Dean closing his eyes and savouring the feeling.

“I care about you too Y/N,” he spoke softly, his eyes slowly opening to meet yours.

You didn’t have time to process what he had just said as he began to slowly lean in and before you knew it, his lips were on yours.

You were stunned at first however found yourself instinctively kissing back, your hands making their way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer towards you. Everything that happened was no longer troubling you as you felt yourself getting lost in Dean, relaxing into his touch. You slightly broke away from the kiss, leaning your forehead against Dean’s, both of you strangely feeling at ease for the first time, in a long time.

“Not bad,” you hummed jokingly, earning a slight chuckle from Dean as he leaned back onto the bed, pulling you with him, your lips colliding once more. I could get used to this.


- Hope you guys enjoyed reading this and remember our requests are open so feel free to send us any you may have!